Forsaking all Others 2 of 3 in a series
by mccoylover
Summary: L&O SVU crossover. Set in the late '70's, this one picks up a year after McCoy's proposal in First Comes Love. Liz & Jack make their 3rd try at getting to the alter. The last chapter is the reason for the 'M' rating. Underage? Don't go there.
1. The Third Times the Charm

_**November 29, 1979:**_

_**12:34 p.m.**_

"If you don't want to go over this now, we can change the date again," she said evenly.

"Do I look like I have a death wish," he asked his fiancée with a cocky grin. "After the third postponement, I figured you were about ready to walk, I figure if there's a fourth, I'd better run," he added using a napkin to wipe the mustard away from his mouth, picking up the sandwich wrapper. Tossing what remained of his lunch into the can beside his desk, Jack McCoy reached for the tidy stack of papers.

Liz Donnelly moved the paper cup off to the side along with a legal file, as she leaned over his shoulder.

"The top one has the estimates for catering ," she said ignoring the attempt at banter.

McCoy pulled his chair back and reached out, suddenly pulling her on to his lap, bringing his lips down on hers.

"Come on, Jack." she said breathlessly. "I have to be back downstairs to meet with Lena Petrovsky in forty minutes."

McCoy sighed. "Alright, let's have a look," he said kissing her quickly, as he loosened his grip on her waist.

Donnelly stood over him as he studied the assortment of papers.

He looked up, handing her the stack.

"Everything looks reasonable to me. Well within the figure we discussed. I'll be happy with what ever you want. I promise to show up in whatever you order, I'll eat anything, and I'll sign a blank check. Doesn't get much easier than that."

Donnelly gave him a look. "It's your opinion I'm after McCoy, not your money. If you think I'm planning this wedding alone, think again, counselor. I'm second chairing for Lena on the Wendell case. I'm on call the next three weeks. No, we either do this together or we get married at city hall."

McCoy shook his head. "Come on, Liz, I thought we settled this. Just because I don't want a church wedding, doesn't mean you should settle for five minutes with a city official. You should have a wedding to -"

"Remember, "she said, finishing the sentence she had heard so often. Marrying you should be memorable enough ," she teased. "Alright, we'll table city hall. A outside wedding is way too risky in December. Looking at cost and location, I'd say the bar association hall is the way to go. Unless we wait until spring."

"We've changed the date twice, because of my trial schedule. It's been almost a year since I proposed. No. No more waiting ," he said firmly. " Bar association makes sense. Unless, you've reconsidered Paul and Anna's offer?"

Donnelly gave him a look, as she sat on the edge of the desk. "Even if the yacht club was your style - which we both know it's not - there's no way we're accepting a favor from a mob lawyer. Look Jack, I like Paul and Anna. Having him as your best man is fine, but that's where it stops. Unless, you want to forget about a career in the D A's office."

As much as he valued Paul Kopell's friendship, Jack had been shocked when his friend since law school ,had accepted a partnership with a firm whose major clients were known organized crime figures. Paul rode a line that was narrow, at best. McCoy the day Kopell would tumble and end up in over his head would never come.

"The Bar Association it is."

"I'll take a deposit check over today. When I called this morning, the 22nd was still open. Guest list is ready, so maybe we should look at invitations, next. Mom and Danny can stay at my place when they arrive. As for your family," she hesitated momentarily, as Jack stood up and faced the window. "I know how you feel about your Dad Jack, but what about Colleen and Patrick?"

"We've been over this. If I invite my brother and sister, he'll guilt them into bringing him. No, Liz. They met you when they came in for Thanksgiving and gave us their blessing. As much as they want to be here, they know the old man. They understand. Maybe if Mom was still alive…just trust me and lets move on."

Lena Petrovsky smiled up at Donnelly, as she took a seat across from the SVU Bureau Chief.

"How are the wedding plans coming, Liz?"

Petrovsky nodded as Donnelly filled her in on the lunchtime planning.

"You know, Jack is right. A wedding is something you do once - or at least you hope to do only once- are you really sure you don't want to take a leave and plan something extraordinary?"

"Lena, are you trying to get rid of me?'

Petrovsky laughed. "Quite the contrary."

"Whether I marry Jack at City Hall or St. Patrick's Cathedral, doesn't concern me in the least. I just want to marry him. To be honest, I'd rather do something small with some close friends instead of something splashy, that's going to start us off in debt and take anther year to plan. "

Petrovosky nodded. "Well, selfishly, I'm relieved to hear that. I met with Alfred Wentworth and the Mayor this morning. Seems this town is ready for a female Supreme court judge and you're looking her."

"Lena, that's wonderful," she gasped. "They couldn't have made a better choice."

"Thanks, but they couldn't have picked a worse time."

"The Wendell trial?"

The older woman nodded. "Yeah. Eighteen rapes in nine months. I really wanted to put that bastard away." Petrovsky leaned back in her chair. "Since I can't have the honor, how would you like to do it?"

"You even have to ask?"

"Not really, but with your upcoming wedding I wanted to be sure. You know the case and in the time you've been in SVU, your conviction rate as been well above the average. Besides, you're the most senior of the ADA's that have stuck it out."

"What about Hawkins?"

"Resigned this morning. Liz, let's face it. They drop like fly's in this bureau. The women aren't prepared for the brutality. The men can't deal with the victims," Petrvosky snickered. "Guess you have to be pretty twisted to thrive on dealing with domestic violence and rape every day."

"Well, you've got be twisted to bring the twisted down," Donnelly solemnly commented.

Petrovsky sighed, opening the file in front of her. "True enough. Wentworth and Schiff are sending someone from Major Felonies to assist you," she glanced up adding, "I specifically told them not to assign Jack. I know you two work well together, but this case…It's one thing for him to read about Wendell in the papers, but if he gets a look at what this guy did to his victims…no matter how well he talks the talk, Jack is human. He'd want you out of SVU yesterday, if he knew how sick Wendell really is."


	2. The Eastside Rapist

_**December 20, 1979: **__**10:54 a.m.**_

"You're gonna wear a hole in the floor, if you keep pacing like that," the detective observed.

Donnelly stopped in her tracks, frowning in spite of Anita Van Buren's wary smile.

"It's almost eleven o'clock. The I.D. was supposed to be at ten. Where is she?"

"My partner radioed in. He checked the house and the victim's brother said she's on her way. She probably got caught in traffic. She'll be here, counselor."

Donnelly sat down on one of the cheap plastic stools in the interrogation room of the newly formed Special Victims Unit. She had spoken briefly with the new squad member. The striking African American woman sat across from her and sighed.

"What happened to Petrovsky?"

"Same thing that happened to Detective Meyer - promotion. Judgeship. Supreme Court."

Van Buren's eyes widened. "It's about time. Maybe with Lena on the bench we'll see some serious sentences handed down for sex crimes in this town."

Donnelly nodded. "How are you adjusting to SVU, detective?"

Van Buren looked at the attorney thoughtfully. "Honestly? I'm biding my time until my rotation's up or there's an opening in narcotics. I can do the job, but do I want to spend my career dealing with sex crimes? I don't think so. I thought I'd seen it all in vice, but guys like Wendell-"

Van Buren paused hearing the door behind her open.

"Ladies, defense counsel and the purp are in interrogation two, vic is waiting in the Captain's office."

Thirty minutes later, Van Buren and Donnelly sat across from Arthur Gold and the orange jumpsuit clad suspect, in what the papers had dubbed the Eastside Rapist case.

"The bitch is lying. Just like the others. All lairs."

"Jasper, let me handle this," Gold said sharply.

"I see, Mr. Wendell," Donnelly said dispassionately cutting off the defense attorney. "The witnesses lied. The police lied, and the lab results were planted. Everybody's lying except you."

Wendell licked his lips, slowly eyeing the attorney. Donnelly silently cursed. She knew better. _Address defense counsel, don't make yourself a target, _she reminded herself. _Don't let this pig know he's getting to you._

"Your lab results can be explained away as consensual sex," Gold interjected. "Two of your witnesses failed to identify Jasper, and let's be honest Liz, it wouldn't be the first time the cops rushed to judgment to make a quick arrest. Especially with the nephew of a city councilman. I'd say it's time to talk about a deal."

Donnelly and Van Buren exchanged glances.

"Try selling that crap to a jury after they see the pictures of the victims. Here's the deal: He pleads to all counts of aggravated rape, all counts of false imprisonment and kidnapping . I let the torture and attempted murder charges go and he does the maximum time."

"Time to run concurrently?"

Donnelly let out a joyless laugh. "How nice to see you haven't lost your sense of humor, Arthur."

Donnelly turned her attention to Wendell who continued to stare at her chest, rubbing his hands over his lap.

"Tell your client to get his hands on the table and make a decision. This offer is good for the next thirty seconds," she said impatiently.

Wendell wiped the drool from the side of his lip. "I've made my decision…_Liz_." he leered. "As for your, offer, why don't you screw…the plea."

Donnelly stood up glaring at defense counsel. "We're done, Arthur."

" Jasper, we need-."

"NO! I'm looking forward to seeing all those lying bitches. I'm especially looking forward to seeing you again, _Liz_."

Van Buren jerked Wendell up. "That's it, let's go."

As the door closed Donnelly turned on Gold.

"Nice, Arthur. Excuse me while I vomit."

"I know it got a little rough-"

"Don't patronize me, Arthur," she spat. "That animal doesn't intimidate me. We'll see how much fun he has when I squash him like a cockroach on cross."

Gold shook his head. "Don't let it go to trial, Liz. I'm not looking forward to it, but I'll rip your victims apart on the stand."

"Your client won't deal. He wants his day in court to victimize those women again. God Arthur, how you can defend-"

"I'm not going to apologize for providing constitutionally guaranteed counsel-"

"Save it Arthur. I know the connections that piece of scum has. I'm sure your firm is being well compensated. I don't know how you're gonna sleep when I whip your ass and he turns that vengeance on you. You saw what he did to those women. I'd stay near the court officer when the verdict comes down, if I were you."

Gold looked at her awkwardly. "Aw, I know this probably isn't the best time to bring it up. My secretary is new and she forgot...I know it's late notice…"

Donnelly waited.

"I wanted to RSVP. That is, if I'm still welcome at the wedding?"


	3. Flowers, Fittings, and Flights

_**December 20, 1979: **_

_**8:47 p.m.**_

McCoy looked up from his file, hearing the tap on his office door.

"Hey, how'd it go with the florist," he asked, as he stood up.

She slipped off her wool coat and burgundy suit jacket placing both on the rack behind the door.

"I'd say it's a safe bet we won't see our orchids until New Year's. With the storm, we'll be lucky if they can scrounge up some mistletoe for your boutonnière, " she said dropping onto the leather sofa. "I called my mother before coming up here. They just closed Logan International until further notice, due to weather."

McCoy frowned. "Maybe by Friday…"

Donnelly shook her head, dropping her heels beside her. "Don't count on it, Jack. They expect a new storm Thursday night."

"Damn it Liz, it's one thing to not to have a bouquet... but your family and friends... your Mother should see you get married. Maybe it's time to think about post-"

"Don't even think it. Were not postponing this wedding again. Mom and I talked about it. I think she'll be happy just to know you've finally made an honest woman out of her daughter. Remember, she still thinks it's just a matter of time before we give in and get married in a church. Her exact words were 'I can wait for the real ceremony'. Besides, that's the least of my worries. Is Tim still around?"

McCoy joined her on the sofa shaking his head. "Left twenty minutes ago. Why?"

"How was your day?"

McCoy gave her a crooked smile, eyebrows raised. "I have a feeling it's about to take a turn for the worst. Why are you looking for my assistant?"

"Is the wedding off, if I tell you I asked for Tim to second chair on the Wendell case?"

McCoy groaned. "God, Liz…are you serious?"

"Jack, it's been three weeks. I go to trial on the 26th and I still don't have a second chair. Ben Stone's been great, but he's got the Juarez triple homicide starting right after Christmas. I've got to have some steady, experienced assistance with witness prep-"

"You've gone it alone on rape cases, before. Is this really necessary?"

"Eighteen rapes in nine months, need I say more?"

"Well, if you're going to steal my assistant, I feel I should be compensated, somehow" he said pensively.

Donnelly leaned over.

"Don't pout," she said. Seizing his already loosened tie Donnelly drew her close as she began kissing him.

Her fingers started to unbutton the white dress shirt. Running his hands over her shoulders and down her back McCoy returned the kiss.

"How far do you want to take this with Adam Schiff five feet away, counselor," he asked whispered as his lips moved down her neck.

"That depends," she replied breathlessly. "Did you remember the fitting for your tux?"

Donnelly laughed as she heard him swear.

She looked up at him grinning. "The wedding _is_ in two days."

"Looks like we might actually make it to the alter, this time."

"Looks like. That is, if we both get through Thursday night."

McCoy looked at her with questioning eyes. "I thought we agreed the rehearsal Sunday was fine? With half the wedding party is delayed due to weather-"

"I can't believe you've forgotten,"she said mockingly. "I thought your bachelor party was the _real_ reason you wanted to marry me. You know - all those juvenile male rituals - girls popping out of cakes, strippers- "

McCoy rolled his eyes. "As tempting as that sounds, with Adam there to supervise and court on Friday morning, I wouldn't count on more than a game of darts and a couple of drinks. Besides, I've sowed my wild oats. _You're_ the one I'm worried about. I've heard about those bachelorette parties. Adult toys, lingerie, male strippers…I'll lay you money you wind up at Chippendales or Studio 54 before the night is over."

"Listen, Jack. Your the only guy I'd pay money to see in a g-string," she said leering. "Make you a deal: I won't stuff money in some strippers crotch if you won't."


	4. The Leather Couch

_**December 21, 1979:**_

_**10:27 p m **_

"Oh my _God_…" Donnelly turned her former boss and removed the red satin break away boxers from Lena Petrovsky's head. "Jesus Lena, I thought you and Danielle would plan something more... traditional."

Petrovsky downed her fourth kamikaze, motioning for the bartender to bring another round. "Come on Donnelly, loose up" she shouted over the blast of _Do you Think I'm Sexy._"Bachelorette parties aren't for the bride. They're for her friends that have been married since the stone age! Thank God for women's liberation. The marches, sit ins , court cases...all worth it to evolve into a society that a places like Chipendale's possible."

Donnelly looked down the bar, watching fifteen usually sedate professionals hoot, giggle, and push to get close enough to the exotic dancer gyrating down the bar, to put dollar bills down his g-string with lingering fingers.

_God, I hate it when he's right, _she thought as she glanced at her watch.

"Don't even think about bailing, Liz" injected a voice behind her. "I cleared your calendar for Friday. The only thing you have left is the motion hearing at 11:00. You'll be out of court by 12:30. Plenty of time for you to get to _The Red Door_ and change for the ceremony. Now, sit back and enjoy your last night of freedom!"

Donnelly turned to look at the secretary for the Special Victims Bureau. "Gwen, how the hell did you do that? I had -"

The petite blond laughed. "Adam Schiff said to tell you it was an early wedding present. Besides, tommorow is the day before the three day weekend. Most judges and clerks were more than happy to reschedule most of that stuff for after the holiday. Now, have another drink and relax."

Donnelly shook her head., glancing at her half empty glass of champagne. "I'm pacing myself tonght. I want to be sharp for that motion hearing with Gold. Wendell's playing too many games-"

"Ladies, your table is ready, this way please."

As the group made their way towards the private room, Donnelly turned to Danielle Melnick.

"Dinner at Flynn's was enough. The gifts afterwards _more _than enough. This…you're one of Jack's best friends. I figured you'd see to it this thing got no wilder than a tupperware party, Danielle. You were supposed to warn me if things were going to get weird."

The public defender smiled a wicked smile. "Weird as defiined by who? Editable panties, sex toys, exotic dancers…that's tame compared to the Eastside Rapist. I can handle Jack - he's in no position to question a little harmless fun. Besides, the look on your face when you opened the gift from Petrovsky was priceless."

"I'll bet. When I read 'whip' on the box, I figured it was a kitchen whip, you know, for cooking - who'd of thought a pair of handcuff's and a horse whip would come from Lena?"

Melnick chuckled."I'll bet Lena's not the only judge to want to go after Jack McCoy with a whip-"

As the group entered the room Donnelly found herself being hustled to the head of the long table facing a stage with a movie screen at its center. As the waitress made the rounds for drink orders, Lena Petrovsky stood beside Donnelly, tapping her water glass with a knife.

"Alright ladies. Let's come to order, please." Petrovsky held her hand up grinning at the laughing group of women. "Settle down, ladies. Jack McCoy has littered the streets of Manhattan with broken hearts for over a decade. From Hogan Place to Centre Street, High 'Em High McCoy has loved 'em and left 'em hanging.

"Those of us assembled here tonight, have put together a bit of a tribute for you, Liz. You have done what countless women in the five burroughs have been unable to do._ You_ have hooked the unhookable. As of 7:00 p.m. tomorrow, John J. McCoy Esquire will have left his last woman, broken his last heart, and will be in your capable hands. We the women of Centre Street salute you, Liz Donnelly!"

With Petrovsky's final words, a round of applause began as the lights dimmed and the movie screen came to life. The sound of erotic music filling the room as the home movie entitled: _The Leather Couch _began. Donnelly cringed as Danielle Melnick's voice spoke over the music.

_"In the criminal justice system, there were two separate, yet equally important groups: The women that Jack McCoy seduced; and the women Jack McCoy planned to seduce. Until one woman stopped the insanity. This is her story!"_

Donnelly, reached out catching the passing cocktail waitress. "Bring me a double Dewar's neat and keep 'em coming."


	5. Darts, dancing, and detectives

_Just cleaned this chapter up a bit. A few amusing changes, towards the end._

_**December 22, 1979: 12:39 a.m.**_

"I've got to be checkin' on the boys in the back. If you be wantin' more coffee before I get back, just help yurself miss," the aging Irishman said leaving the white airpot on the bar. "Just give a holler if you want somethin' stronger."

Donnelly nodded, picking up the mug with _Clancy's _scrawled across it in bright green script. Its contents weren't going to help much to warm her suddenly cold feet. She stared blindly into the mug, the only sounds in the bar coming from the game room at the back. A constant stream of Irish folk songs blaring from the jute box, and the occasional sound of cheering, followed by laughter.

She had a motion hearing to review for and a wedding hours away. She needed sleep. Yet, she wasn't ready to face the wedding dress and the presents that a waited her in her apartment. Reminders that before the day was over, she would be starting a new life with a man whose exploits had been thoroughly reviewed in nauseating detail at the party she had quietly deserted, less than an hour before.

_I just need to think and everything will make sense again ... if I can have some peace and quiet..._she had told herself as the taxi made its way downtown. She knew with the happy hour crowd long gone, it would be unlikely that anyone but a few regulars would be left in the Centre Street pub where she and Jack McCoy had had their first date.

_Why now, why is it getting to me now_, she wondered impatiently. When she had been his assistant, she learned first hand about McCoy's romances. _How many irate phone messages did I take from his endless one night stands_, she wondered._... the man asked me to be his wife...he's had plenty of changes to reconsider... but a marriage... one woman... how can he after years of...how long before-_

"What'd the bum do?"

Donnelly eyes shot up and over, passed the barman who had returned and over to the occupant of the stool beside her.

"Excuse me," she asked, looking up into large brown eyes that softened the streetwise face.

The smile made the face quite handsome. The stranger ordered a vodka 'rocks before replying knowingly, " I didn't mean to startle you. But it's kind of obvious - after midnight on a weeknight, a beautiful blonde alone in a dive like this? I figure it's gotta be a guy. Am I right?"

Donnelly chuckled. "Quite the Sherlock Holmes. You might want to do a little more detecting, before you turn on the charm. You're wasting you're time," she said smugly, the diamond engagement ring sparkling as she held her hand up. "I'm off the market."

The man grinned back at her, as he handed her a business card. "I'll keep that in mind."

He laughed good naturedly when Donnelly almost fell off the stool. Reaching out to steady her, he replied. "Careful. I wouldn't want to have to arrest such an attractive bride- to -be for drunk and disorderly, at least not before she introduces herself."

Donnelly reached for the clutch bag, placing her business card in the outstretched hand.

"I'm invoking my right to remain silent, Detective Briscoe."

"Come on honey, where's the fun in that? Besides, we're both on the same side, here. Say the word, I'll call in a few favors and the guy can get a little attitude adjustment in Rikers."

Donnelly couldn't help but smile. She watched as the man looked over her business card. Something about the detective made him far more interesting than any of the tight young things Donnelly had reluctantly observed at the strip club.

"ADA Donnelly? You're handling the Eastside Rapist trial," he asked giving a low whistle as she nodded. "That's one sick bastard. A bastard with too many friends in high places. Counselor, you got guts."

"More than the damn judge," she said softly. She motioned to the bartender exchanging her cold coffee for a brandy. "He shouldn't even be considering a new bail motion, but the family has pull."

"Sorry I can't help you there, Elizabeth?"

"Liz."

"Lennie," he said offering his hand. "But hey, I can help you with this other guy. Consider it a professional courtesy."

"Thanks," she said shaking the warm, firm hand. "but I can handle him myself."

Briscoe tried to be discreet in his appraisal of the striking blonde, he shrugged his shoulders when Donnelly gave him an amused stare. "Sorry. Automatic response when in the presence of a beautiful woman. Listen, if you would rather be alone, I can move-"

Donnelly shook her head. Something about Lennie Briscoe made her want to keep the conversation going. "You're fine where you are, if _you're_ sure you really want to hear this? I'm sure you've got better things to do-"

"Sweetheart, I'm all hears. My shift ended at midnight. I just stopped in here on my way from night court," he said leaning back. "I've got nothing but time."

Ordering them each another drink, the detective listened intently as Donnelly filled him in on the nights events.

"So, you're afraid his roving eye might keep roving, after the wedding?"

Donnelly hesitated. "No, I... Sneaking around isn't Jack's style… No, he won't be unfaithful. But that doesn't mean… if he's not happy.. "

He carefully watched her body language as she tried to explain.

"Listen, Liz you're a knock out. You're smart and classy, too. Any guy would be happy if you gave him a second look, the guy that marries you…no way is he gonna have regrets."

Donnelly cast her eyes down, noticing the gold band on his ring finger.

"If that's true, why are you sitting in a bar buying a strange woman a drink, detective? I'm sure you feel the same way about your wife-"

"First of all, it's Lennie- remember? Second, compared to the women I meet in Vice, you seem pretty normal," he joked. "Third, I didn't start doing the horizontal mambo until I caught my wife in bed with the ConEd guy - divorce will be final next month."

Donnelly reddened, "I apologize, Lennie. I shouldn't-"

Briscoe shook his head. "Hey, you couldn't know. Besides, you're awful cute when you blush," he said with a wink. "Listen, Liz. This marriage thing? There are no guarantees. It's a game of chance. You could win big, break even, or lose your shirt. But if you don't place a bet, you never know how big the win could be."

"Are you always this profound," she said smiling at the distorted wisdom.

Briscoe smiled back as he stood. "There's plenty more insightful gems, where that came from. You'll be here when I get back?"

She nodded and watch him head towards the men room. She gestured to the barman.

"Ready for another," asked a new face.

"One more for both of us. Put it on my tab and close me out. I didn't know you were working tonight, Will."

The barman nodded. "Just came up front to relieve Patty. Been covering the back room, most of the night. Looking for Jack," he asked as he cleared the empty glasses.

Before she could reply she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Liz?"

"Ben? What are you doing here?"

Ben Stone stood beside her, tie less and in shirtsleeves . "Right now? Playing darts and getting my ass handed to me. How long have you been here?"

"Not long. Had my fill of strippers and crotch less underwear. Sorry," she said seeing Stone's face redden. "Too much information?"

Stone caught the bartender's eye, handing him the empty beer mug. "They really took you to Chippendale's?"

Stone grin widened as she summarized the evenings events.

"Petrvosky of all people," he said softly whistling. "Who'd of thought?"

"Come on Ben, I'm sure that was mild compared to what Paul and the rest of you had planned for Jack tonight. I figured his bachelor party would just be getting started now.'"

The barman returned, handing Stone a full mug before he could reply.

"I can't leave you for a second," Briscoe joked, standing beside Donnelly.

Stone looked inquiringly at Donnelly who made the introductions.

"Nice meeting you detective," Stone said shaking Briscoe's hand. "You know, Liz you're welcome to join-"

"Actually Ben, Lennie and I were in the middle of a conversation I'd like to finish. Good luck with the darts."

Stone seemed to hesitate, sizing up the broad shouldered older man.

"Well, if you're sure.."

"Ben, I'm fine, really. I'm in the hands of New York's finest. Couldn't be safer than that, could I?"

Stone gave Briscoe's cocky smirk a disapproving glare.

"I'll see you at the wedding, "Stone said giving her a kiss on the cheek, his eyes never leaving Briscoe. "You're going be a beautiful bride."

The detective watched Stone go, shaking his head. "Gee, _that _was subtle."

Donnelly rolled her eyes. "We're prosecutors, Briscoe. We're not supposed to be subtle. Ben's a good man. He just wants to be sure we understand each other. We _do_ understand each other?"

"Yes, ma'me," he said with a mock salute. "Off the market, right?"

"Right."

Briscoe leaned across the bar, reaching for the tab in front of Donnelly. Her hand moved fast, meeting his. Briscoe rested his hand on top of hers.

"Lennie, no-"

"Let me get this. It's your last night of the single life. That reminds me, not that it's any of my business, but why a Friday night? I mean, why not have the blessed event on the weekend, instead of after work right before the holidays?"

"We tried that the first time we set a date. Now, with our trial dates, we would have to wait until well into February to do it on a weekend and have a few days afterwards for a honeymoon. We do it today and we have the three day weekend before I start the Wendell trail."

"Makes sense, although the way the weather's been, good luck if you plan to go out of town this weekend."

After a few verbal go a rounds about the bar bill, Donnelly paused, distracted by a familiar tune coming from the jute box. Her eyes lit up mischievously. "Tell you what Lennie, let's cut a deal. I get the tab, and you do me the honor of one last dance a a single woman?"

Briscoe's recovered from the unexpected request almost immediately. He shook his head, "What is that? _When Irish Eyes Are Smilin'_? Sorry Liz, as much as I'd like to oblige, I don't do disco and I don't know how to do Irish."

"Do you do swing," she countered. "The jute box in the back as a standards section: Sinatra, Davis,-"

He stood up, taking her hand. "How can I say no to Frank? Lady, you sure do know how to cut a deal. That's an offer I can't refuse."

The pair moved to the back room. A half a dozen men were focused on the dart board, a game well under way. The pair studied the selections, debating which Sinatra tune to play. Finally, Briscoe put a dollar in the machine and punched them all.

"There's no such thing as too much Frank. Hopefully we won't waiting until dawn for-" Briscoe started. He grinned as his first selection began playing. "Looks like it's our lucky night."

When Briscoe took her in his arms, she could faintly smell the Old Spice that he wore. She hadn't been in another mans arms since she and Jack had started dating. It took her a moment mentally identify the unexpected hardness against his right hip, camouflaged by the leather jacket.

"Now Liz, don't get me wrong. I _am _happy to see you, but that's not what you think. Remember, I just got off duty," he teased, adjusting the side holster to pull the gun further back.

"Cute, detective wise ass."

She was surprisingly ease, curiously comfortable in the savvy detectives embrace. Donnelly put her head on his shoulder. She smiled as Briscoe hummed _Witchcraft _softly against her ear.

"Hey, Liz, don't go to sleep on me," he said taking her hand and abruptly turning her away and then back to him.

"Not a chance, Lennie," she assured him. Feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks, she followed his lead.

As they moved to the music they chatted like old friends. Briscoe dipped her suddenly, Donnelly jokingly warned the detective about the consequences of dropping her. The sound of her laughter, causing the small group of men to turn their attention away from the dart game. He paused dramatically before he brought her back up, spinning her out. Briscoe turned in confusion, when a quick jerk of Donnelly's free hand left Briscoe suddenly minus a dance partner.

Donnelly gasped with surprise, finding herself pulled into an embrace. She could smell the scotch on his breath as his lips came down on hers.

A hand on Briscoe's shoulder stopped him as he stepped towards the couple.

"Don't worry detective, "Ben Stone said reassuringly." Liz is fine."

"Final fling before the big day," he asked grinning down at her, as he loosened his grip on her waist.

"Jack? What are you doing here? Orgy over already?"

McCoy shook his head." Over hours ago. After the naked women left most of the guys lost interest and headed home." he deadpanned. "I figured it was time for a friendly game of darts."

Donnelly nodded knowingly. "Friendly? Meaning you let your opponents know you are the undefeated champion in every bar from Manhattan to Chicago?"

He shrugged his shoulder, eyes wide and innocent." Nobody asked "he asked looking over at Briscoe and Stone.

Donnelly rolled her eyes. "How much did you take 'em for?"

McCoy feigned shock. "What kind of man do you think you're marrying? You really think I'd soak a group our closest friends?"

"The question wasn't would you, it was how badly would you do it?"

"Let's just say, the honeymoon's covered," he said, a self satisfied smirk on his face. "So, ah, whose your friend?"

The pair moved towards Briscoe. Donnelly made the introductions before she remembered leaving her purse on the bar. The two men watched as she headed back to the bar, Stone and the others settling their tabs.

"Sorry to cut in, Lennie." McCoy said extending his hand." No hard feelings?"

"No problem, Jack," the detective said good naturedly, as he sized up the man before him. "If Liz were my fiancée, I'd have done the same thing. You're a lucky man."

McCoy studied Briscoe face,sensing a something unspoken. "That I am, detective. Maybe you'd care to finish that dance with Liz?"

Briscoe eyed the man cocking his head. "I'll leave that to you, Jack. It's getting late-"

"I meant tonight at our wedding reception,"McCoy said meeting the curious gaze.

Briscoe nodded, unintimadated."As much as I'd like to, I'm afraid I'll have to pass. I'll be on duty. Listen, can I be candid here? " Briscoe paused. "Player to player?"

McCoy met Briscoe's stare."By all means."

"Like I said, you're a lucky man - just don't, you know - don't screw it up. Plenty of guys lined up out there to take your place if you do."

"Plenty of guys or one in particular?"

Briscoe smirked, neither man's gaze wavering. "You're a sharp guy, McCoy. I'll leave you to figure that one out for yourself."


	6. The Contemptable Jack McCoy

_**December 22, 1979: 10:42 a.m.**_

Jack McCoy leaned against the wall, just outside Part 66 of the criminal courts division, assessing the damage done to what he thought was a rock solid case. McCoy knew Judge Marx had a reputation as an advocate for defendants rights, but his ruling were bordering on favoritism. At least in the hung over eyes of McCoy.

With a heavy sigh McCoy checked his watch, moving towards the elevator, hoping his next witness would be on it.

"Close your eyes! It's bad luck for you to see me before the wedding!"

McCoy shook his head. "We've made it this far, I'm not going to let superstition stand in my way now. Listen, how bad was the snow when you came in?"

"Pretty bad, Jack. It's supposed to let up in the afternoon, but you can't get across Hogan Place right now, except by foot. The bridge looked pretty backed up," Donnelly said solemnly.

McCoy swore softly as the pair moved out of the way of the crowd exiting the elevator.

"I'm getting creamed in there. Only one of three witnesses I had scheduled as shown up. I still haven't seen the M E.. With Tim second chairing for you, I haven't been able to follow up-"

"Wouldn't matter if you had a second chair, Jack. Unless, you planned on having Tim track 'em down on a snow plow. Besides, he's gone. Flying to Atlanta for Christmas. Probably stuck at JFK."

McCoy ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, maybe I'll get lucky and the witnesses scheduled for after lunch will have the presence of mind to take the subway. By the way, I ran into Danielle this morning. She said to tell you she'll bring the shower gifts with her to the reception. Said she was sure you'd want them for our first night as husband and wife."

Donnelly rolled her eyes. "Yeah. That stuff is indispensable. Listen, Paul has your tux, right?"

"In his car. Your dress is with Lena?"

"In her chambers. I'll pick it up before I head out. Looks like you better get back,"she said looking over his shoulder. "Wish me luck with Wendell."

"I taught you everything you know. You don't need luck," he said with a wink.

Donnelly shook her head. "That's why I love you, Jack. You're such a modest guy," she said holding her hand up. "Now, take that arrogant carcass back into that courtroom and mop the floor with Paul Kopell."

McCoy met her hand with his own, giving her a 'high five' as the pair turned to go down opposite ends of the hall.

_**December 22, 1979: 2:59 p.m.**_

"Sustained. Move on Mr. McCoy."

McCoy could barely hide his disgust. It was the fourth time in ten minutes that Judge Nathan Marx had ruled against him, effectively torpedoing the prosecutions case.

"Approach your honor," McCoy growled, his mind racing, as he desperately tried to think of a way to avoid having his case dismissed.

Marx motioned for McCoy and Paul Kopell to come forward, obviously annoyed.

"Your honor, Mr. Burns can verify-"

"Where is he?"

"Probably stuck on the George Washington bridge because of the snow. At this time, the people again move for a continuance-"

"'Probably' doesn't set aside my clients right to face his accusers," countered Kopell."Mr. McCoy can't use testimony that hasn't been given yet, to impeach this witness."

"The people have no control over the weather. Mr. Domenicci has a _reasonable_ right to face his accusers. It's not reasonable to expect my witness-"

"If Mr. McCoy can't make his case-"

Marx held his hand up. "I've heard enough. Mr. Kopell is correct. His client shouldn't have to wait until spring thaw to face his accusers. Motion for a continuance denied. _Again_. My previous ruling on this line of questioning stands."

McCoy threw up his hands."Then I have nothing further," he snapped, gesturing at the witness.

"Watch yourself, Mr. McCoy," warned Marx. "You're dangerously close to contempt."

Kopell turned to return to his seat. The two attorney's eyes met. Kopell raised his chin momentarily, acknowledging the victory he had won. His next move would be to ask that the judge dismiss the charges against his client. McCoy's face remained a mask as he turned towards the two empty chairs behind the prosecutors table.

McCoy suddenly faced the judge. "Your honor, if you won't grant the people's motion for a continuance, I would ask that you recluse yourself from this case."

Kopell could see from the vein pulsing on Marx's temple, the judge was reaching his breaking point.

"On what grounds," Marx snapped.

"The grounds that your honor clearly has a bias against the people in this matter."

"You're _way_ out of line, counselor. The implication of your last remark is grounds enough for a contempt citation-"

"Actually, judge, the people hold nothing-" the raspy voice began.

_Damn it Jack, what the hell are you doing?_ Kopell thought frantically._ Do you **want** Marx to hold you in contempt? _

"Shit," defense counsel whispered, springing out of his chair.

"Defense counsel moves for a recess-"began Kopell, noting the empty chair at the beside McCoy's.

"- but contempt," McCoy continued,"for a court placing such an extreme and unfair burden-"

"That's it," Marx bellowed, slamming his gavel down."I want this man cuffed and out of my courtroom. That's five hundred dollars, counselor - Mr. Craig can continue for the people."

McCoy held his wrists out for the court officer, giving Kopell a triumphant glance. "At this time, I am without co counsel your honor. Mr. Craig was reassigned to the Wendell trial yesterday."

The judge's eyes widened, his jaw tight."Court will recess until Monday morning."

"Your honor, today is the _22nd_," Kopell said quietly, making eye contact with McCoy. "Monday is Christmas day."

Kopell slowly shook his head, the significance of the date registering in the eyes of his best friend.

"Mr. McCoy," the Judge sneered, still furious at being maneuvered. " you _have _your continuance, by default. We're adjourned until the 26th. The banks closed at noon, for the holiday weekend. Good luck finding a bail bondsman at this hour, on the eve of a holiday weekend. Chances are you'll have a memorable Christmas in lock up."


	7. The Best Laid Plans

_**December 22, 1979: 4:15 p. m.**_

Elizabeth Arden's renowned day spa was just minutes from the Manhattan branch of the New York Bar Association. Donnelly was confident she would have little trouble getting to the site of the wedding, with time to spare. She adjusted the antique earrings that had once belonged to Jack's grandmother. The pear shaped diamonds shining in the light. Donnelly recalled the touching card that had come with them via UPS, from Jack's sister in Chicago.

Donnelly carefully adjusted the shoulder length veil that rested on top of her elegantly piled ash blond hair. She took a deep breath, staring at her reflection in the full length mirror. Of all the decisions to be made for the wedding, the dress had been the most difficult.

After sleeping with Jack McCoy for more than a year, white seemed an amusing choice, at best. It was only at her mother's insistence that Donnelly had agreed to it. The chiffon gown that draped her statuesque figure, had spaghetti straps that crisscrossed down the back. The thin straps lead the eye towards the bodice. The shirred bodice was trimmed with embroidery and bead work. The simple trumpet skirt ended below her feet in a chapel train. The end result was a look that was at sophisticated and timeless.

The make up artist at Elizabeth Arden's had used subtle amounts of product to create a natural look. Donnelly blinked in wonder. The facial and full body massage had served to erase any signs of stress or strain. Any lingering doubts were gone. Feeling relaxed and refreshed, Donnelly was confident any obstacles to her union with Jack were behind her.

As she reached for her coat, Donnelly's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Lena, you're early-" Donnelly paused, looking passed her friend questioningly. Adam Schiff and Paul Kopell entered the room.

"Liz, you look gorgeous," Kopell said, hugging the bride, as he looked uneasily at Schiff.

"At last, something Mr. Kopell and I can agree on," Adam added. "You make a beautiful bride, Ms. Donnelly."

The three uncomfortably exchanged glances with at each other and the bride.

"Thank you, both, but I hardly think you two came down here just to get a sneak peek at the bride. Paul, why aren't you with Jack?"

The two men stood silently, exchanging increasingly bewildered looks. Petrovsky finally spoke up, "Adam has some news for you, Liz."

The Executive ADA exchanged dagger looks with the Judge. "He's in lock up, Elizabeth." Schiff said warily recounting the mornings events.

Donnelly stared open mouthed at Kopell. "Paul," she said finally finding her voice. "You're his best man. You were supposed to-"

"Liz, I tried. I was on the other side of the aisle, remember? You were his second chair long enough to know how driven he is. For Jack, it's all about winning in the courtroom. He was completely focused getting that continuance."

"I'll give that man a continuance,"Donnelly muttered, buttoning her coat as she reached for her purse and briefcase. "Lena, can you take this to the hall," she asked reaching for the garment bag containing her work clothes. "Maybe if I talk to the judge-"

Schiff shook his head solemnly. "Judge Marx isn't budging. He's no fool. He knows Jack manipulated him into that continuance. He won't be happy until he's made an example out of him. If Alfred was available...maybe hearing from the D A personally-"

"Marx," Donnelly said intently. " Nathan Marx?"

"There's only one Marx in the criminal division-" Schiff began.

"Paul, did you bring your car?"

The puzzled attorney nodded. "I followed Lena over. Why?"

"I assume you've got Jack's tux? Can you to drive me back to Centre Street?"

"Well, yes."

Grabbing Kopell by the arm, Donnelly started for the door.

"How do you plan…"

"I don't know, Adam. What I do know is, Jack wouldn't have done something so drastic, unless there was no other choice. I'm not going to just leave him sitting in lock up."


	8. I'm Not Ready to Make Nice

_**December 22, 1979: 5:21 p.m.**_

"Judge Marx!"

A hand pushed the elevator doors back open. A haggard looking man in the black robe stepped out of the car. His eyes widened as he recognized the young woman sprinting towards him.

"Elizabeth Donnelly? How the hell are you," he asked a wide smile forming on his lips. He reached out to adjust her drooping veil."I haven't seen you since you started in Special Victims."

"I've been better. My fiancée is in lock up," Donnelly explained as they moved down the hall."I can't pay the fine because the clerk's office closed twenty minutes ago -"

Marx shook his head, taking in the frantic young woman and her attire. "Slow down… you're marrying some guy in _lock up?_" Marx stopped walking, smacking his head with his hand. "Mary, Mother of God. Elizabeth. _Not_ that _idiot_ ADA? I thought Schiff was blowing smoke when he said that pompous Mick was getting married today."

"Well, now you know it wasn't smoke," Donnelly said firmly. "And for the record, that 'pompous mick' is about a far as can you get from being an idiot. Please, Nathan. Drop the contempt charge."

"Elizabeth, the man played me in open court. He made me look like a fool. I can't have-"

"Listen, Nathan. I'm calling in a favor here. You said it yourself. Nat Junior passed his Criminal Procedure class thanks to the tutoring I gave him. Your exact words were, 'I owe you big, Elizabeth. What ever you need, you just say the word'. Well, the word is _groom._"

"McCoy knew he was supposed to marry you tonight and he _still_ pulled this stunt?" Marx grumbled. "That skirt chasing ass has no business buying you dinner, much less marrying you. Elizabeth, I'm doing you a bigger favor leaving that SOB to rot in lock up."

"I'm well aware of who and what Jack McCoy is," she continued undaunted."Whether I should marry him isn't the issue. The issue is: Are you a man of your word?"

The pudgy man drummed his fingers against the wall, as he weighed his choices.

"I'm sorry you're going to be hurt, Elizabeth. But, I can't drop the charges. Not even for you,"he said firmly."Don't blame me for your boyfriend's lack of priorities. Maybe this delay is for the best."

Donnelly's jawed tightened as she impatiently eyed her former superior with a mixture of alarm and disgust.

"Dammit Nathan. You're just being spiteful. Just like the summer I clerked for you. Jack McCoy is no saint, but you make that 'skirt chasing ass' look like an amateur. The only reason you didn't try playing footsie with _me_, was that your son and I were good friends," lowering her voice she added contemptuously,"I know where the bodies are buried, Judge Marx. Don't think I'm afraid to dig them up."

"Careful Elizabeth, or you'll find yourself in lock up with that worthless sack of shit you're so hell bent to-" Marx recoiled, reaching for the side of his face, the slap coming too fast to be blocked.

"I just committed assault on a public official. You want lock me up? _Do it_, you arrogant son of a bitch,"she taunted hotly."I'll use my one phone call to call Barry Lowenthal at the_ Ledger - _whom I will be sure to fill in on all of your extramarital activities. What Jack did today shows more integrity than you've shown in your whole career. Do what you have to do, I'll do what _I_ have to do."


	9. How 'Bout it, Mr McCoy?

_**December 22, 1979: 6:43 p.m.**_

_This chapter includes a really fun idea I got from reading a crossover story by **polkadotnplaid**, over at Live Journal. I was intrigued by her use of a certain Manhattan courtroom and its staff. I would have **never** thought to use any part of the other show, in a L & O story. Thanks, polkadoatnplaid - you inspire me!_

McCoy was lead by the court officer out the elevator and down the hall marked 'Court Personnel Only.' His confusion increasing, as he turned the corner and saw Paul Kopell dressed in a tuxedo, holding a garment bag.

"Paul what the hell-"

"Just had to win, didn't you, Jack? Couldn't keep your mouth shut, just this once?"

"And let a murdering thug go free? I don't expect you to understand Paul, since you _are _his attorney. But no, I couldn't just keep my mouth shut." McCoy paused as he thought of someone he _did_ expect to understand - or at least had thought would listen to his explanation. Jack looked down at the dull tile floor. "Have you seen Liz? She didn't even bother to come down and give me hell. I suppose we're finished. Hell, she's probably at Clancy's commiserating with Briscoe. Who's no doubt, more than ready to pick up where he left off last night."

"Don't be a bigger ass than you've already been,"Kopell said, good naturedly smacking McCoy's arm. "We stopped at a ATM on the way back here, to get cash for your fine. Unfortunately, the clerk's office was closed when we got here. Liz took off to hunt up Judge Marx."

McCoy eyes shot up. "She hasn't called off the wedding yet," he asked in amazement.

Kopell shook his head. "She wasn't thrilled about what happened, but she hasn't given up. She may not officially be one yet, but she already has the stubbornness of a McCoy, " he said handing the officer the garment bag. "The bailiff said to have him change in the judges chamber, then bring him down to night court."

"Night court? Paul, what's going on?"

"You're guess is as good as mine. Liz caught up with me about thirty minutes ago. She was going to call Lena again to ask her to have the caterer start serving. She figures that will buy you two a little more time."

McCoy frowned slightly. "It's almost seven. Even if Liz can pull off some kind of miracle, Petrovsky has a plane to catch. By the time we make it to the Bar Association, there won't be anyone to perform the ceremony."

Kopell held his hands out," All I know is she wants us front and center in fifteen minutes, so you better stop asking questions and get dressed."

Reaching for his gavel Judge Harold T. Stone prepared to call court into session. His eyes scanned the courtroom, seeing that several 'regulars' were already seated in the gallery. The young man did a double take, as his eyes resting on the defense table. The public defender was speaking with a beautiful blond, dressed to the nines, in a long white gown and veil. The judge's eyes widened with interest, as he returned the smiles of the two young women. His eyes turned to his clerk who, files in hand, stepped up to the bench.

The pair conferred briefly, each looking up several times at Donnelly, then continuing their whispered exchange. Finally, the clerk stepped back.

"Defense counsel, approach."

The public defender followed Elizabeth Donnelly towards the judge. As the three conferred, the prosecutor watched with an increasing mix lust and bewilderment. It was ADA Dan Fielding's turn to do a double take, as Kopell and McCoy were ushered to the defense table by the bailiff.

McCoy watched in fascination as Donnelly spoke with judge. Distracted by the allure of his bride in her wedding dress, he found his thoughts wandering to where he knew the thoughts of every man in the room were: On images of unfastening the fragile straps that appeared to be the only thing holding the top of the delicate gown upwards.

ADA Dan Fielding cleared his throat, attempting to get the judge's attention. "Your honor?"

Judge Stone waved a dismissive hand at the prosecutor. "Hold your horses, Dan," he said continuing a highly animated conversation that included a series of hushed whispers and bursts of muffled laughter by both the judge and defense counsel.

Fielding, Kopell, and McCoy waited impatiently. Fielding finally moved from the his side of the aisle to the defense table.

"Jack, I don't mean to butt in here, but you and Liz _are_ prosecutors. Shouldn't you two be on my side of the aisle," Fielding asked."You want to fill me in on what's going on?"

Before McCoy could response Donnelly interjected,"Your honor, I would ask that the people refrain from questioning the defendant, while he is without counsel present."

"The _defendant_? Your honor, this is the first the people have heard of any charges against Mr. McCoy."

The lanky judge nodded as Donnelly returned to the defense table, the public defender continuing out the small gate that separated the front of the court form the gallery.

"Liz, what-"

"The PD saw me h-"Donnelly bit her lip,beginning again, quickly."The PD heard my confrontation with Marx. I told her what was going on & she suggested I talk to Judge Stone. She says he's new, but he's sharp. And fair. Somehow, she managed to have the clerk pull together the documentation Marx left in the day clerk's office. Now, as your counsel, I want you to exercise your right to remain_ silent_."

The clerk who announced, "Docket number 1-122279: _The People v John J. Mc Coy."_

"According to defense counsel, Mr. McCoy was charged with contempt in Part 66 today," Stone said holding the file out."You can acquaint yourself with the details, Mr. Fielding. The defendant's counsel, Ms. Elizabeth Donnelly, has asked this court to hear her request to suspend Judge Marx's order and allow Mr. McCoy to pay his fine in night court, thus releasing him from lock up. Any objections by the people?"

"Well…no. None that I can think of at the moment," said Fielding, looking over the file. He paused smirking as he read, giving McCoy a knowing glance."The people are well acquainted with Judge Marx and the procedures within his courtroom. No objection by the people, your honor."

"Ms. Donnelly how much is the fine?"

"The fine is five hundred dollars, your honor," she said dispassionately. "Which - as you're honor is well aware - is twice the amount of the standard fine for the first contempt citation. It's a clearly excessive, placing an undue burden on the defendant. Defense counsel asks that the fine be dropped to the customary two hundred fifty dollars."

Stone motioned for Fielding to approach, taking the file and rifling through it's pages. The judge shook his head grinning.

"Nice try, counselor. However, based the official account of the incident, Mr. McCoy not only verbally showed contempt for the court, but went in the back door to get a motion that had already been denied,"Stone waggled a finger."Knotty, knotty, Mr. McCoy. Tricking a judge holds much more serious consequences, than just shooting off your mouth - or does defense counsel plan to dispute the accounting of the incident?"

Donnelly lent over to hear what Kopell had to say and shook her her."Defense counsel, withdraws it's request for a reduced fine."

As McCoy began to protest, the judge interjecting,"Ms. Donnelly, do you want a moment to confer with your client?"

Donnelly shook her head, much to the amused surprise of McCoy."That's not necessary, Judge Stone. I can assure the court, Mr. McCoy is in _complete _agreement. He is remorseful for the actions that brought him before you tonight, your honor."

The judge smiled broadly. "Good. It's always so nice when every one's in agreement. Mr. Kopell, is it? Could you take the cash to my clerk, who will expedite the necessary paperwork? Mr. McCoy will you and counsel approach?"

McCoy walked with Donnelly whispering in her ear. "Remorseful, are you insane? And another thing - you're sure this guy's a judge? He looks like a first year law student."

Donnelly nudged him with her elbow, "If you don't shut up and let me handle this, I swear to God, I'm going to move that you have a 730 exam - isn't one contempt citation enough for you?"

Judge Stone smirked as he leaned down, his long face inches from McCoy.

"She's right, Mr. McCoy," the judge said scolding him softly. "After all the hot water you've been in today, the last thing you want to do is tick off another judge. Let me put your mind at ease. I _am_ a real judge, albeit, a inexperienced one. Vested with the authority to set aside _or_ enforce Judge Marx's ruling."

"Understood, your honor."

Stone nodded, leaning back. "Ms. Donnelly has filled me on your situation. She has asked me not only to intervene, regarding your jail time and fine, but to perform your weddimg ceromony. While highly unusual, I find her arguments compelling and difficult to ignore. An experience I'm sure you're not a stranger to. "

McCoy's turned to Donnelly in disbelief. She lowered her veil, a triumphant grin on her face.

"In court? No friends or family," he said regretfully, his face clouded with guilt. "Liz, I really have been a selfish bastard, haven't I? You deserve-"

Donnelly took his hands, squeezing them tightly. "to be Mrs. Jack McCoy. Besides Jack, think of the irony. We were unbeatable in a courtroom together, can you think of a more fitting place to begin our life together," she asked wryly adding, "unless you met the love of your life, down in lock up?"

McCoy's face softened.

"Well, how 'bout it, Mr. McCoy," the judge interjected. "I'm going to have standing room only any time now. It's now or never."

McCoy turned slightly, glancing at the stream of defendants and plaintiffs that were slowly entering the room. Most of them staring back, surprised to find the bride and her groom at the front of the courtroom.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Well Jack, maybe that's something I should be asking you," she said quietly."after today."she pressed a finger to his lips as he tried to protest."The only thing that could keep me from marrying you, is you, Jack. So, as Judge Stone so eloquently put it - how 'bout it?"

"Kopell,"McCoy said sharply." I hope you haven't lost that ring."


	10. Honeymoons, Handcuffs, & Hesitation

_I want to thank the amazing beta, **Giwu**, for graciously editing & advising me on this chapter. I haven't written many sex scenes. I really wanted this one to be worthy of Jack and his reputation. Thank you, Giwu for making that happen, so tastefully._

December 23, 1979: 12:32 a.m.

The couple moved quickly to the waiting limousine. They carefully made their way through the shower of rice and across the icy sidewalk. The cars presence was a pleasant surprise, provided by their absent boss. D A Alfred Wentworth's way of wishing the couple well.

As the car left the curb, McCoy conferred with the driver. His bride removed off her heels and closed her eyes. Smiling as she reflected on the roller coaster ride, that had been their wedding day.

She almost laughed out loud, remembering her husband's face when Judge Stone referred to them as: Mr. and Mrs. John McCoy. The goofy grin. Goofy wasn't a word often used to describe Jack McCoy. But this time it applied . Goofy and sweet. Grinning from ear to ear. A look of sheer wonder and total bliss.

Her only regret was not having a camera. Knowing she was the reason for that look, meant more to her than any wedding ceremony ever could.

She felt the warmth of his hands rubbed her achy feet and opened her eyes.

"Getting tired?"

She shook her head as she opened her eyes. "I'm wide awake. Just thinking about my wonderful husband."

"You think I'm 'wonderful'?"

"I'll bet Judge Stone's staff thinks so, too. Sending the left over food and cake down to night court was the perfect-"

"We're alone now Liz," he snapped. "You can say it."

She shook her head again.

"Say what? Jack, I don't-"

"You're not angry? Or disappointed," he asked sullenly. "Maybe you should be. I appreciate what Judge Stone did. Still, it's not the kind of wedding you should have had. As for the reception…there was barely time to cut the cake and toss your garter. If I had just-"

"Stop it. Stop beating up on yourself. I swear, I think _you're _the one whose disappointed," she smiled and touched his cheek."Jack?"

"I adore you," he said earnestly. "I wanted the world to know it - or at least - our world."

She sighed as she removed her earrings, pressing them into his hand.

"Do you recognize these?"

He stared down at the delicate earrings, holding them up to the light.

"Nana's earrings," he said staring at her. "I thought...How-"

"They arrived this morning, along with this." She said handing him the envelope she had removed from her purse.

She watched his face go through a kaleidoscope of expressions, as he read the note from his sister. The words expressed the love and pride Jack's siblings had for their older brother, who had spent his childhood in the role of protector. A brother whose time for happiness was well over due. Wiping his eyes, he placed the note along with the earrings in his jacket pocket.

"The people that count, know Jack."

He pulled her to him, holding her tightly.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispered as he kissed her mouth.

Minutes passed before she gently pulled away from him.

"Besides, were getting to the part of the evening _I_ was looking forward to the most," she said in breathless anticipation.

McCoy gave her a sideways glance as he pulled her back to him.

"Expecting me to live up to that reputation of mine are you, Mrs. McCoy," he asked suggestively.

The moment the porter closed the door, McCoy's mouth was back on hers. Wedding night or not, they had been lovers too long for any hesitation in their affections. The last several hours had been full of anxiety and now their bodies desperately needed and ached for each other.

"God, I love you," he said with a deep, contented sigh. "I thought this night was never going to end."

Elizabeth McCoy looked at her husband, as she moved the comma of dark hair from his eyes.

"I love you, too. Now that were alone at last, exactly what did you have in mind?" she asked teasingly.

Jack McCoy looked into the eyes of his bride and saw his own desires reflected back at him.

His hands pulled her to him, and he responded to her question with a suggestive laugh. His body pressed her against the wall and she was willingly trapped in his erotic embrace. His hands traveled to her back, anxious to perform the task he had anticipated the first time he had seen the back of the chiffon gown she wore. His fingers traveled to the place where the spaghetti straps hooked. Skillfully, he set them free, the delicate bodice falling forward exposing her full breasts. His mouth moved swiftly to tease the already hardened nipples.

He could feel her arch her body into his and call his name. Her hands began working first on the bow tie, then the buttons of the stiff white dress shirt. He had already removed the tuxedo jacket and now she started to slide the suspenders down his arms. She attempted to slip the shirt off but was thwarted when it would not go past his wrists. Impatiently she opened her eyes, spotting the cause of the delay.

Since she had been focusing more on the skillful teasing of his mouth on her breasts; she had forgotten about the cuff links. She gave up momentarily after fumbling to remove them from the shirt that was now inside out and confining his arms. She could feel her knees start to buckle as his mouth insistently increased suction on her nipple. Her hands instinctively clutched the broad shoulders she found so exciting. He smiled up at her and paused to undo the cliff links. The shirt fell to the floor and he returned to her.

His left hand went around her back, pulling her to him. He closed his eyes, aroused by the sensation of their bare chests rubbing against each other. Liz began to work her way down his neck with her lips. His right hand moved to slowly unzip the remainder of the dress. She stepped to one side and the dress fell to the floor.

He opened his eyes slightly and they widened upon the sight of the black lace garter belt that held her stockings and it's matching g-string. He stepped away from her slightly, lustfully taking in the view of his nearly naked bride. Silver stilettos, completed a ensemble that made his throbbing cock ache to be free.

"If I'd known what little was underneath that dress, I would have taken you someplace private at the reception," his deep voice whispered hoarsely. He moved a hand up her smooth thigh and between her legs. The liquid warmth of her was flooding his senses.

Before she could retort a reply, he made her gasp as he tweaked her clit. She started breathing sharply as his hand began tracing a path it had come to know so well. She arched her back, as his index finger slipped inside her.

Her hands eagerly opened his trousers, sliding them passed his smooth, tight ass, along with the cotton briefs. The feel of her body clamping down on his finger, combined with her hands manipulating him, made his penis involuntarily pulsate and twitch in her capable hands.

Her legs trembled and she tried to sink to her knees after he inserted another finger, slowly caressing her clitoris. He wrapped his free arm around her and supported her when her own legs would not.

"Oh, God…Jack….can't stand it," she blurted in almost a sob. She was now moving her body in rhythm to the thrusting of his fingers. "Bed… take me to bed."

He gave her that deep, throaty, chuckle. The triumph in it unspoken.

"Not yet," he whispered. "Not until I'm sure you're ready."

She took his shaft in one of her hand meeting his thrusts, unwilling to release him, the other hand played with his balls. She smiled as his breathing became more rapid, knowing it wouldn't be long.

Liz back moved back, just enough to cause his fingers to momentarily slide out of her. She successfully lowered herself, bringing her lips down on his penis. Jack moaned with pleasure, his cock involuntarily thrusting forward.

"God, Liz you're killing me," he whispered.

Suddenly, without warning, he pulled her into his arms. He lay her down on the bed, while at the same time he removed the remaining garments. He used his knee to open her legs until he was ready to slip his head between them.

"Jack, no…no," she moaned, writhing on the bed. His hands tried to hold her in place as he plunged his tongue inside her. Her ass was rising and tensing as she began to loose control. "I can't stand it…can't.."

He paused and she whimpered loudly. "Do you want me to stop," he whispered.

Her hand pressed his head back down in response.

Just as her orgasm began to build, he moved from her. Before she knew it, he had her on her feet and had moved her so she was facing the wall. He gripped her from behind. Her hands reached out to the wall as he entered her, one hand massaging her breasts. The other with exquisite slowness, caressed her button between her legs.

"Son of a bitch," she murmured, her hips meeting his thrusts with a slow, sensual beat.

"That I am," he said seductively, his lips moving to the hollow of her neck. "Before I'm finished, I'll be the son of a bitch you beg to fuck you."

Liz shivered, anticipating what was coming. The sensation of his lips devouring her neck, along with the skillful torture of a set of fingers on her tits, while the other set methodically rubbed her clit, was too much.

"Damn you, Jack…oh God, let me…do it," she babbled.

"What do you want me to do?"

Almost incoherent with desire, she pleaded. "I want to feel your cock fucking me…I want you, Jack... please...I want you to fuck me."

McCoy spun her around and started thrusting deep, powerful thrusts. He slowly increased the rhythm until he felt her stiffen. Her back arched sharply as she cried out her release. He held her tightly as he thrust violently into her. Jack's lips crashed down on her mouth, seconds before he was engulfed by the intensity of his climax.

It was just before dawn when the room service order arrived. While McCoy signed the bill, Liz returned from the bathroom wearing a long pink satin robe and picked up a glass of orange juice. She took a sip and waited for McCoy to usher out the waiter.

"You probably need this more than I do,"she said smirking."Don't want you getting dehydrated."

McCoy took the glass and downed it. "I wouldn't be such a smart ass, if I were you,"he said smugly producing a pair of hand cuffs from the pocket of his robe.

"Where'd you find those,"she sputtered.

"The bag Danielle gave you,"he said moving towards her."If you're too much of a wise ass, I might have to use these."

Liz dashed towards the bathroom.

"You'll have to catch me first."

McCoy sprinted after her, the couple laughing as they struggled against the bathroom counter. Jack finally able to wrestle her to the floor, inadvertently knocking over the small bag of toiletries that had been on the counter.

The pair froze staring in shock, first at the diaphram that lay across from them, then at each other.


End file.
